Blood moon & Fire
by cuticlecareenetwork
Summary: She did not know what she was nor what she could become. What she knew she had to choose between two men. One who might kill her and one who would save her. Supernatural fantasy historical fic. Werewolves, vampires and centaurs oh my! Also not modern; cue knights on horses looking hot. Very AU - just part of my fevered imagination and plot bunnies. Rated T, M chaps marked.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** _: I have never been so unsure about a story before. I hope you guys will read this. It's all mythical beasts, supernatural, vampires and such like. Maybe a centaur or two. And oh. It's a little different; being set in a different historical era. Cue archaic phrases, ladies in velvet gowns and knights looking hot on horses, wielding swords._

_Arrghhhh I am SO not sure anyone will like this. There would be no Acapella or much music. Jesse is quite OOC in the beginning - he is moody as feck but it is all because he needs a good shag. I actually built the story around the smut. Damn you and your plot bunnies, BittyAB818 and xAnoMollyx!_

* * *

**...**

**PROLOGUE**

**...**

"It is worse than we feared. They are going to make a move very soon."

"Should we inform Lord Mitchell?"

"Yes, without delay. She has to be safe before her eighteenth."

The lady was furiously writing on a piece of parchment and once she was finished, she rolled it up quickly without waiting for the ink to dry. She rose from her chair and tucked the roll into the man's belt.

"Lord Mitchell will know what to do. Now go. Godspeed, dear one."

The man nodded and left the room. A few long minutes later, she heard the hard gallop of a horse. The lady went to the window, her eyes trained on the rider fast disappearing from view. She turned her face towards the sun streaming into the room, sighing softly at the warmth of the sun rays on her face. Her eyes were closed as she murmured softly, "Rebecca, I wish I am there to protect you."

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE**

It was not every day that you received news that would alter your life. News that would lay a few paths before you and the rest of your life would be defined by the path you took.

Today was such a day for her.

She stood in that room, the furnishings and the smell so familiar to her. The tapestry covering one wall, the huge fireplace crackling with a small fire to ward off the slight chill in the air, the massive table in the middle. All familiar to her. But at the moment, she might as well stood in at the edge of a cliff as she listened carefully to what her father was saying.

Her hands were folded demurely on her front, like a lady that she was. She tried hard not to fidget in this too tight, too long gown. She wanted to rip that annoying clips that kept her locks out of her face. She was uncomfortable and annoyed. Her father had now stopped speaking now and she knew he was expecting some sort of response from her. Lady Rebecaa Mitchell took a deep breath and stilled herself.

"This is news to me, father."

Lord Mitchell inwardly sighed, feeling a headache threatening to pound through. He knew his daughter far too well. He knew she would not take the news easily. He was at least expecting a shouting match. That she had not thrown anything at him already came as a great surprise and an unexpected bonus. That was why that calm tone she was using was almost eerie. He turned slowly to face his daughter. She looked so much like her late mother, standing erect and haughty, the fire in her eyes belying the calm tone she was using,

Yes, Lord Mitchell was expecting a fight.

"This is for your own good, Rebecca. And for your safety," he replied.

She shook her head, her heavy cascading brown curls bouncing and gave Lord Mitchell a tiny, smile. "Of course it is for my own good, father," she replied, eyes narrowing. "It has nothing to do with any political alliance you might profit from it."

"Hush your tongue and speak respectfully to your father!"

Lady Rebecca Mitchell turned her cold stare at the blonde older lady who had so rudely interrupted her. She was about to speak again, that foolish woman, but she spluttered to a halt at the icy stare from the tiny brunette.

"I speak to my father as I wish... Lady Shelagh." She added the formal title a little too late, a little too grudgingly. The fact that she did not address her as Mother was not lost on them. Beca loathed to call her stepmother; let alone mother. "I ask you to give me the courtesy NOT to interrupt at something as important as my nuptials."

Lord Mitchell looked at the exchange between the two women. Her daughter was headstrong and impudent; he admitted that. She should be more respectful of her elders; especially to her stepmother. Most other fathers would have beaten out that defiance from their daughters but she was his only child and that was not how he wanted to raise his daughter. Frankly he liked that fire in her and felt it was a shame to try and tame that. It was also true that perhaps he gave her far more liberties than most parents would. It was partly stemming from his guilt that she had to grow up alone while he was away waging wars.

Lady Rebecca Mitchell was raised up by doting maidservants and educated by the finest tutors money can buy. She had tutors for every conceivable subject there was, from music to dancing to weaponry. From embroidery (which she appreciated but did not have any patience for) to philosophy and history.

But it was from her father that Lady Rebecca learned military strategy; from the early years when she was small enough to climb onto his lap to when she was older where she would sit quietly in the corner of this war room whilst her father and advisors debated on what they should do next . She soaked in all the small details of his world. All the various power struggles. All the delicate balance of power between the warring factions . All the various permutations that could affect the destinies of those who depended on them for their daily bread and care.

Lord Mitchell actually enjoyed having her company and listening to her opinions. And truth be told he was sometimes surprised how devious a woman's mind could be. But now her daughter was of a marriageable age and it was time for her to put aside all these manly pursuits and became a proper lady. He had thought him marrying a second time would provide a maternal influence to this end but as always, when it came to his daughter, Lord Mitchell always got it wrong.

"Beca..." Lord Mitchell said, rubbing his temples. Why was it he could easily face a horde of slavering soldiers but quaked in his boots in front of his daughter? "You know your responsibilities."

Beca moved forward studying the large map laid on huge table, noting the battle lines and the troop deployment; all displayed in miniature. She studied all the minute movement and strategy being weaved like an intricate embroidery in front of her.

"I am to marry Lord de Lessops?"

"Yes."

"He is a puny man. And very old, father."

"With a large army and an ability to keep you safe."

"I'm safe here with you."

"Not when the O'Cullenains are showing such an interest in you."

Beca coloured a little at the mention of that name. The chance meeting two seasons ago came to her mind and she fought that memory down, not wanting to betray more of her emotions.

"Is it really that bad if we ally with the O'Cullenains?" she asked casually, as she picked up a small counter from the table, examining it closely. Each counter on the battle map was marked with the faction's battle colours and marks. She was holding on to the O'Cullenains' counter which was black with a red slash across the neck.

"Beca, you know full well why not. It would make them far too powerful," Lord Mitchell's voice was sharp. He hesitated before adding slowly, "And there is something about them that is not quite right."

"I thought we should ally with the strongest, father."

"No. Our duty is to keep the balance. We cannot afford another ten twenty years of this fighting, Beca. It is about time we have some peace."

Lord Mitchell did not mention the other thing that would make the alliance with the O'Cullenains unholy, the reason why they were so interested in her. She was unaware of it and he loathed to tell her. It was best she kept her innocence slightly longer. He was not ready be the one to tell her what she really was, what she could become.

He looked a little shrewdly at his daughter who was now a little too interested in the battle lines drawn by the O'Cullenains. If what he heard was true, all the more reason he should send her away to the de Lessops as soon as possible. It was the only way to keep her safe.

"My word is final, Beca," Lord Mitchell said. "We are to travel to de Lessops in a week. I suggest you make your preparations and say your final goodbyes. It is unlikely you will see your friends again in the near future."

Beca carefully placed the black counter back and she straightened up, meeting her father's eyes. Her gaze was as steady as her voice, "As you wish, father. Thy will be done." And with that, she swept out of the room, without waiting for permission.

"That went well." Lady Shelagh said in relief, fanning herself.

"Yes, too well," mused Lord Mitchell. He rang for his manservant and when he arrived, Lord Mitchell said, "Get me Commander Allen immediately. I want a word with him."

* * *

Today was not a good day. It had nothing to do with the weather. Yes, it was grey and wet with clouds racing along the horizon, chilly winds that stab you straight through your bones and fat, wet raindrops that soaked your head and slithered down your neck.

It was just not a good day. His head was wet with raindrops clinging to his brown locks. And he felt cold and a little hungry. He needed to feed soon.

A weak sort of sun tried to peep through all the greyness but it gave up halfway and all he could see was greyness upon greyness. He could not remember the last time he had lie down in the warm sun looking up at blue skies. Jesse shook his head to clear away that thought. It would only depress him further.

He hefted his crossbow across his shoulder and tucked his sword to one side, wrapping his cloak tighter around him. True, he was a full fledged knight of some years and had not trip over his sword for some time, but he would not put that past the sheer bad luck that was today. He should also get out of the rain. The last thing he need was for his weapons to rust. It would just add to the misery the day had brought.

The stables were warm and comforting; the smell of hay and horses familiar. It was also dry. He shrugged off the wet heavy cloak, hanging it on the nail and letting it dripped onto the straw. Jesse carefully placed his crossbow to one side before going into the stall. A familiar whinny greeted him and in the next moment, a wet, soft nose nuzzled the side of his head. He could not help but smile as his hands went up to stroke the stallion's head.

"Hail fellow, well met," he murmured, closing his eyes as the horse continued to nuzzle into him. He hugged the horse's neck and he could feel the knot at his back unravelling. "I got you a treat." Jesse rifled through the little pouch he carried on his waist, extracted an apple and offered it to the black stallion. It whinnied a little excitedly and immediately chomped on that apple, nearly missing a few of his fingers. Jesse just laughed, patting its neck. Once that apple was gone, it gave Jesse a side eye, asking for more. When none was forthcoming, the black stallion promptly nudged him aside and turned away as if he was sulking.

"You are such a baby," Jesse laughed, now reaching up to stroke its nose. The stallion neighed lowly. "Yes, I know. The weather's bad. I'll bring you out tomorrow. Now who wants a brush?"

The next half hour was spent just brushing his coat. Jesse loved his horse - he was a beauty, standing at 16 hands, muscles rippling under that coat, black as midnight and a shock of white along his nose. The black stallion was temperamental, moody and the evil incarnate on the battlefield but under his hands, Shadow was putty and affectionate. Jesse was calmer now. Losing himself into that uncomplicated, repetitive chore put his mind off what had happened in the morning but his ease was short lived.

"Sir James."

Normally Jesse would made a face at his formal name. He was not a formal sort of man but this manservant did not know that. Jesse had heard him entering the stables. It was hard not to - he bumbled in magnificently. To his sharp hearing, Jesse could hear the door frame creaked as he entered, the crunch of the straw under his feet and the sound of his leather leggings rubbing softly as he walked. And that earnest, honest smell of him - of linen, polish and good intentions.

"Sir James, Commander Allen wants to see you. He said I was to find you and bring you to him."

"Call me Jesse, please." he sighed but the look on the manservant was close to horror and he opened and closed his mouth a few times in discomfort. Jesse just shook his head and smiled. "Please. Lead the way."

Jesse did not know it but his day was about to get worse.

* * *

Lady Beca Mitchell was a well brought up lady. Anyone looking at her would not think anything was wrong. She walked slowly to her room, seemingly unaffected by the life-changing news. Her face was calm, her steps measured. It was not until she was behind the closed stout door of her bedroom that she flung the nearest thing she could get her hands on. In this case, it was a pretty little hand mirror, wrought in silver.

"Oh my, someone is in a bad mood."

Beca turned to the side and smiled. The sight of Amy, lounging on the seat, feeding one grape after another into her mouth cheered her up somehow. Just a little.

"What's got up your corset?" Amy casually asked as she got up, went over to the little mess of broken glass and silver and swept it up. Blonde, buxom and jolly, Amy (Eh. Lady Fat Amy to you) was a complete contrast to the little brunette. There were no formality between them, she was coarse, rude and loud most times and no one could be quite sure what Amy was really thinking. She seemed to inhabit a slightly different world and she was also Beca's best friend.

Amy had appeared at the castle the month Beca's mother passed when she was six and Lord Mitchell had said to Beca she was to be her companion and playmate. They grew up together, inseparable and were usually up to scrapes and no good, running rings around their nannies and servants. Amy was there when she fell from a frisky horse, when she had her first period, when she hurt herself tripping over her first proper lady gown.

Amy was always there to make her feel better. Like she was doing now. Beca loved her to bits.

Beca just swore softly under her breath before throwing herself onto her four poster bed and kicking her high heeled shoes off. She hated them but had worn them for the formal audience with her father, like Lady Shelagh insisted. That she-devil.

"Hmm.. does this have to do with your pending nuptials?" Amy said, sitting down and popping more grapes into her mouth. Beca raised herself up on her elbows and looked at her in surprise.

"How did you know?"

"News travel fast," Amy shrugged, flicking a grape at her. "Especially when you walk so slow, Beca. Like a lady."

"Shut up. I am to be married in a week!" Beca said, standing up and pacing. "In a week! I will travel to him and be wife to that grey, shrunken Lord de Lessops."

She stopped and shuddered.

"Mmm.. he does have a fine head of white hair and all his teeth. What more can you ask for?" Amy mused. Beca just looked at her like she was down with the plague. Amy began to grin as she continued "Surely not a week? The de Lessops' hold is not that close."

"A week to prepare. Lady She-devil will want to send me off with a huge trousseau. Then the trek there - four weeks? I am sure Father would want to make it a big show," Beca mused, thinking out loud. "Then goodbye freedom."

Beca was snorting in disgust but as the full impact of what was going to happen dawned on her, she collapsed onto the nearest chair. brooding.

"There you go. Plenty of time to make a run for it," Amy remarked. She pelted Beca with more grapes before adding cheekily "So... what will your paramour think of all this?"

"What are you saying? I don't have one!" Beca said, colouring again. Her mind had went straight to the image of the beautiful blonde man she met and she immediately put that thought away from her mind.

"Of course you don't. That blonde god is just someone your loins are aching for."

"Amy!"

"You want to ride him like a horse."

"Amyyyyyy!"

"Or have him ride you like one."

"Aaammmmyyyy!"

"He's not my type. But whatever you like, Beca. I won't judge you."

"You are impossible," Beca muttered, laughing a little.

She was too restless to stay still. Beca got up and went to the large wooden wardrobe and began to pull out a nondescript pair of pants, tunic and jerkin. She looked at Amy. "Come and help me get out of this stupid gown. I'm going out for a ride."

* * *

The walk to the Command room was a long way from the stables. It gave Jesse time to calm himself down and put on the most suitable expression. Commander Allen can be mercurial at the best of times and it was best to be ready. There was news that they will all to be despatched to the de Lessops in a week; a hard four week trek across the country. All to accompany Lord Mitchell and his daughter.

The word was his daughter was to be wed. Jesse did not particularly care about that. He had never set eyes on the lady - all he heard she was a brat; a spoiled princess kind of lady who probably hate to get mud on her jewelled shoes. He did not like that kind of women. What he knew the trek across the country would be fraught with danger and they were likely to run into trouble often. Especially if the other houses heard of the plan and wanted to foil it . There would be combat. There would be fighting. And there would be a chance for him to redeem himself from his earlier mistake.

They were at a narrow passageway with a pageboy coming towards them. Jesse barrelled on - he was of a higher rank and should have right of way but the pageboy seemed to think the passageway belonged to him and walked on forward, without standing aside like he should. Jesse stopped in his tracks, a little annoyed at the pageboy's insolence. The young lad seemed to caught himself at the last minute, stopped and mumbled his apology, keeping his eyes on the floor. Jesse walked past and the pageboy brushed past him, hurrying down the passageway, with his hat tipped forward covering his face.

Jesse was startled at that slight touch. Something seemed to shake through him and he stopped, turning round. He sniffed the air a little, trying to make something out. That was a little confusing. He could not place that pageboy - he was not one, he thought and that confused him more. He looked out for him but that slight figure had already disappeared from sight.

"Sir James." Jesse was brought back to the present by the worried voice of the manservant. "Commander Allen does not like to be kept waiting."

He was still staring at the empty passageway, trying to capture his thoughts. He was usually so astute but that was a mystery.

"Coming." Jesse turned back to the manservant and followed him, forgetting that chance encounter for the moment.

* * *

Beca was hurrying to the stables, using a shortcut she knew via the servant quarters. That was a little close. She forgot she was not dressed as Lady Beca and had stalked through the hallways as per usual. She nearly got caught back there. Beca hated to think what would happened if she got caught. The servants would make so much fuss and Lady She-devil would have hysterics that she was dressed like a boy.

The face on that knight was funny though. She suppressed a smile as she entered the stables. He looked like he was slapped by a cold fish. Hah, his precious knight ego dented by an insolent pageboy, daring to take his right of way. She grinned a little. Knights could be so ridiculous and proper, expecting anyone lower in rank to sink to their knees in respect. Beca ate stupid knights like that for breakfast and spat them out into the gutter.

She walked straight into the large compartment, housing Blaze, her beautiful chestnut mare. The horse nickered excitedly, stomping a little and Beca came over with a laugh to calm her down.

"Good morrow, Blaze. How are you today?" Beca whispered. She listened while the horse whinnied and nickered a while, nodding her head. "I know. I know. I can't take you out now. They'll know it's me and I won't get past the gateposts. Don't worry. We'll have a long trip soon. Be a good girl."

With a final kiss on its nose, Beca patted the mare and walked towards another part of the stables, looking for another horse. Hmm… this one is new. She had never seen this handsome black stallion before. She stood a while in front of the tall horse, gazing at its magnificence. How could she missed him? He was perfect.

He gave her a baleful glare and bared his teeth. It was supposed to be frightening but Beca thought it was highly comical. She laughed out loud and the horse was now looking quizzically at her. He was not expecting that reaction. The tiny human approached him and looked him squarely in the eye before placing a warm hand on his neck. What manner of human is this?

"You are beautiful," she whispered. "Who do you belong to?"

Beca placed both her hands on his neck and in the next moment, Shadow had this urge to nuzzle the tiny human. He did so almost tipping her hat back. Beca closed her eyes and hummed a little, enjoying the warmth of this magnificent beast. Her eyes flew open and she suddenly giggled. Oh, she knew who the horse belonged to now. And she definitely have to ride him!

* * *

"I might have misunderstood this, Commander Allan," Jesse said slowly.

He rearranged his thoughts a little, trying to stay calm in front of his commander. He was not a very tall man the commander and years of being away from the hard fighting in the frontlines had made him a little on the bulky side. But there was no mistaking that no nonsense look on his face. Commander Allan wore his confidence bordering on cockiness as naturally as he wore his cloak. He was also a brilliant battle strategist and the fact that he and his troops were still alive was testament to that.

"There's nothing to misunderstood, Jesse," he said, his voice a little sharp. "You are not to come on this expedition."

Jesse's mouth was pressed into a thin, hard line. The anger was like a knot on his chest.

"Am I being punished?" he said tightly, gritting his teeth.

That must be it. That must be the only reason he was being left out, being left behind like an errant schoolboy while the knights in his order were out marching with the rest of the troops. He could almost imagined the amount of flak and derision he was going to face back in the chapterhouse. For goodness sake, he admitted to his earlier transgression and had made the proper penance but it seemed that memories were long here.

"Far from it," the commander said simply.

"Why am I being left behind?"

"You have another task."

"What is it?"

Commander Allen stared at him a little before replying. Jesse was not going to like the news at all. "You are to escort Lady Rebecca by another route. The main trek is too dangerous and Lord Mitchell wants haste. It would be faster and safer for you to travel with her and her companion separately."

Jesse gripped the pommel of his sword hard.

No. This is terrible. He was definitely being punished. He was to be a babysitter? To a spoiled brat princess with a murderous temper? The type who would probably complained if she had to sleep rough and forgo daily perfumed baths? No. This will not do.

"And if I refused?" Jesse said testily.

"There is no option for refusal, James. Remember why I had to take you in. Remember your oath," Commander Allan barked. He saw that pained look across Jesse's face and the hard way his hand was gripping that pommel.

He sighed and said in a softer tone of voice,"Jesse, listen to me. I did not take this decision lightly. There are dark times afoot. We need to guarantee her passage to the de Lessops. I need you and..your special talent..."

The fire crackled loudly in that silent room. Jesse just nodded darkly at his commander.

"I trust the lady knows of this arrangement?"

The last thing Jesse wanted was a stroppy unwilling female plus her companion on what would be an already difficult trip.

"Ah. That's the other thing."

* * *

"You are beautiful!" Beca shouted into the wind. The horse was galloping across the moors; she could feel his muscles bunching and stretching underneath her. That and the wind whipping her hair back. It was entirely exhilarating. There was a gully in front of them, churning with the waters from the recent rains and they were approaching it fast.

"Come on!" Beca shouted, crouching close and tightening her legs against the beast's body. The horse neighed and went faster. A second later, he sailed through the air and landed gracefully on the other side. Beca laughed out loud and kissed the horse on his mane.

* * *

He stomped down the hallways, angry now. Jesse could not believed he was given this stupid, babysitting task. Despite all of the commander's assurances, he was not entirely convinced that he was not being sidelined. There was not a chance for him to redeem himself now. This was turning into a very bad day.

He needed to ride out now. He was angry and restless and felt cooped up in this stone monstrosity of a castle. He needed to get out. He needed to work out this anger threatening to erupt from him. It had stopped raining now and Shadow would appreciate being out of those stables.

Except he was not there.

Jesse swore loudly. How could a big, black stallion like that disappeared? The stablehands all looked suitably confused as well. He wanted to rage out at them; he was that angry. But it was unseemly of someone from his station to rip through them in anger and he had to be wary of the effect that anger might have on him. Jesse buttoned that anger down, pacing in front of the stables now.

Ha! Whomever was foolish enough to try and ride Shadow would get a surprise or two. That brute was evil. Jesse would not be surprised if Shadow came back dragging that idiotic horse stealer behind him, minus a few fingers and sizeable chunks of his flesh. Jesse grinned a little evilly. He just needed to wait here for the sorry perpetrator and gloat accordingly.

Jesse's ears picked up his horse's sounds before Shadow appeared. He could hear the clattering of his hooves, churning the wet earth, the nickers of happiness and laughter? Who was that laughing? Anyone in extreme pain should't be laughing like that.

He stared as the monstrous form of his black horse came into sight. He was galloping hard towards him. Whomever was riding him was not slowing down. Jesse kept his stand, adamant not to move and for a few moments, he knew the fear his enemies must have felt seeing that huge beast bearing down on them. Good god, it was frightening.

Shadow did not slowed down and Jesse seriously thought his horse was going to stomp him to death. Except at the last minute, he clattered to a halt, mere inches in front of him. Jesse looked up in wonder and Shadow seemed to snicker an evil little laugh at him, like he was pleased that he scared Jesse so much. That dolt. Jesse frowned and slapped him playfully on his nose. That horse was diabolical. He loved him.

The next moment the reins were being thrown at him. Jesse caught them neatly, his face now thunderous. Why, that brazen, rude, shameless thief! Not only he stole his horse, now he was throwing the reins at Jesse like he was a common stableboy? Jesse had killed men who had insulted him much less. He was so close to letting loose that barrage of anger when he finally saw who had been riding his horse.

It was that insolent pageboy.

And for a moment, Jesse was speechless.

The slight pageboy just jumped nimbly off his tall horse and landed lightly on his feet. He did not even deign to look at Jesse, who was standing stupefied, reins in his hands. He walked past him and Jesse's hand shot out andgrabbed the boy's upper arm.

"What is the meaning of this?" Jesse spat out through gritted teeth. "Who the hell gave you permission to ride my horse?"

The pageboy was silent, looking down at the hand holding his upper arm.

"Who is your master, boy?" Jesse further shook the boy angrily. "I will have word with him!"

His anger was clouding his mind. He could feel the haze in his mind and the hot heat of anger now travelling down his body. The pageboy was still silent but he then looked up at him.

And his blue eyes met Jesse's.

Jesse felt that jolt. There was no way to describe it. All he could think was how blue those eyes were. That was all that he could see. That was all in his vision. Through the haze of anger clouding his senses, those blue eyes pierced through. Jesse let go of the arm, like he was burned. He could not speak.

"I have no master."

He could not believe his ears. Those words growled at him. That was not the voice of a young pageboy. That was the sound of a choir of angels. That was the sound of a tree full of nightingales singing in the moonlight. Jesse fell back a step. He had never been so confused in his life.

"Lady Rebecca."

The rough voice of the stablemaster rang through the yard and Jesse snapped back from his muddled thoughts. The pageboy's head whipped towards the voice and his hat slipped. He wrenched it away from his head and a tumble of brown, luscious locks cascaded down his back. No, her back. He was a definitely a she.

"Mi'lady, Lord Mitchell asked for your company at evening sup."

She nodded and stalked off without a backward glance at Jesse. He was still frozen on the spot, staring at her back. The stable master came over and took the reins from Jesse's numb fingers. Shadow neighed loudly, stamped his hooves and tried to bite the stablemaster.

"Hush, Shadow," Jesse said absentmindedly patting his neck to quiet him down. He was still staring at the spot the lady was a moment ago. How could he missed that?

"I beg your pardon, Sir Knight. Lady Rebecca does like to go out riding without notice," the man apologised profusely. "She is an accomplished rider and it looked like she rode your horse hard. Ermm...If you tell your horse to behave, I'll have him cleaned and bathed."

Jesse wrenched his eyes away from staring at that empty spot and properly looked at Shadow. He was muddy and sweaty and looked well exercised. Jesse nodded mutely and pulled Shadow's ears down so he was looking at him. "Behave."

The stablemaster pulled on the horse warily and he meekly followed. Jesse walked away from the stables. His mind was still clouded and he definitely need to clear his head. He continued walking away from the castle, past the guard house where he nodded to the guards, past the drawbridge, through the main thoroughfare of the market town until he was clear out through the gateposts to the wilderness beyond.

He was in the forest now, the scent of the trees filling his nostrils. He stopped for a minute, shedding his cloak and taking off his boots. It did not matter if he wore them but he preferred not to run in them. He felt the damp earth beneath his bare feet and breathed in the clean, cool air deeply. He felt much calmer now.

He closed his eyes, tipping his head up and turning his face towards the sky. Those blue eyes intruded in his mind yet again and he angrily waved that image away. He needed to concentrate. Jesse felt the will run through him and the following transformation. He also did not need a horse to run wildly through the woods.

* * *

"Interesting turn of events here, Lord O'Cuillenain."

Lord O'Cuillenain looked up from the parchment he was reading at the face of his adviser. A few thoughts passed in between them in the brooding silence. He turned to look at the messenger bearing the news and dismissed him with a nod. The messenger slunk gratefully away and closed the door quietly after him.

"What do you make of it?" Lord O'Cullenain asked, his eyes now trained on the map in the middle of the room.

"It's a sign of a desperate man, methinks," the other man replied, his voice high and cold. "Only a desperate man would marry of his only daughter to secure an alliance. To the de Lessops, no less."

"No, Lord Mitchell is more devious than that. He knew what we want that wench for."

There was a further silence as Lord O'Cullenain looked out from the high window across the windswept moors beyond. He rolled up the parchment and tapped it against his palm.

He turned around and looked into the dark corner. "Well, Lucius… it seems you have to woo our Lady Beca a bit quicker."

From the deep shadows, a tall blonde man rose languidly from his seat and stepped into the light. The moonlight coming in from the window highlighted the cold angles and the perfect jawline of his pale face. His blonde hair shone in the moonlight and he nodded briefly.

A bell chimed and Lord O'Cuillenain smiled at his advisor in eager greediness. "Ah, dinner is served. I was told we have special treat today. Care to feast?"

He walked past and stopped beside the blonde man. "You have one week," he said quietly. "Do not fail me, Luke."

* * *

**A/N** _Please be honest. I am happy to take this story down if no one likes it. It's too much and too different! Arrrghhhhhhhhh._


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

If she see another silk sheet, another scrap of lace, another piece of delicate silverwork, Beca Mitchell would scream. She would scream and flung herself from the highest window of the highest tower. She would just DIE if she had to look at another lacy underthing, at another fur-lined cloak or at another gold embroidered slipper.

She could not believe how events had escalated since that conversation with her father. Not three days ago, she was told she would leave the home she knew all her life, the servants and family who had raised her, to trek across the country and marry some grey, palsied, possibly incontinent old man. Now everything she could possibly need for her new life, was almost packed and her farewell feast would be in a few hours. The sheer speed everything was moving was making her head spin. It was like they had planned it all along and were just waiting for this to happen.

She and Amy were just now stood in the middle of one of the larger rooms in the castle, surrounded by cedar chests of all sizes, spilling over with yet one or another item that made up her trousseau. Lady Shelagh was in her element. She had imperiously ordered the maidservants to pack and repack each chest to her satisfaction. Each item was thoroughly inspected and anything that was less than perfect were discarded. Only the best were finally packed into those chests.

Beca looked in wonder at the treasures that lay before her. Bedsheets of the finest silk, whitest linen, gowns, shoes and petticoats. Not to mention the finest combs, hairpieces and ornaments and all that jewellery.

Where did they even find all these things? Where in the world did they find such finery? They were at war, goddamnit! People were hurt, starving and bereft of family and kin.

She just felt sick.

She had no need for all these.

That perhaps these were carefully and lovingly prepared and saved for her since she was little did not cross Beca's mind.

But it now made sense why it would take four weeks before they reached the de Lessops. They would need to move at a snail pace with all this baggage and would need a battalion to protect them against bandits. The roads were treacherous enough without the lure of such treasures.

"Just one more thing for you to try on, Rebecca," Lady Shelagh suddenly said.

Beca whipped her head round to face her stepmother. Lady Shelagh was smiling like a grosteque gargoyle and Beca was explicably frightened. Lady Shelagh clapped her hands and waved to some servants behind Beca to come forward. Beca turned and nearly fell back in horror.

Is that... No, it can't be... Oh god, it is.

She felt her throat tightening. The servants came forward, all smiles, bearing between them that dress. That awful, awful wedding dress. All itchy gold brocade with a bodice sewn with tiny seed pearls. It looked so stiff Beca was convinced it could stand on its own. Another servant was carrying a matching heavy headpiece and veil that looked like it was going to break Beca's neck if she tried it on.

"Oh. Look how beautiful it is!" Lady Shelagh cooed.

A tiny animal-like wail came out of Beca's throat. No. Surely they didn't expect her to try it on now. God, no.

"Just step out of your gown and try this on, Rebecca."

Lady Shelagh was now gripping Beca's forearm. Beca struggled a little but she couldn't wrenched her arm away from under Lady Shelagh's death grip. The dress advanced like a stalking predator and she was the little prey that could not move.

"MOUSE!"

"What?"

"MICE! In the linen! In the LINEN!"

Amy was gasping hard, pointing in horror at one of the chest. They all thought they could hear the squeaking and they all thought saw the linen moving. Nothing frightened a maidservant more than mice. Nothing frightened Lady Shelagh more than mice in the precious trousseau. Shrieks was quickly filling the room.

"Quick, do something!"

"Stomp on them! Don't let them escape!"

"The linen! The clean linen! Don't stomp on them!"

"Oh no! They are in the shoes now!"

"Where?"

"There!"

"Noooooo!"

Amy gave Beca an wink unseen as she shrieked louder than the rest, upsetting chest after carefully packed chest. The servants were screaming, Lady Shelagh was collapsing into a dead faint seeing all the clothes on the floor. And in amongst that noise and bedlam, Beca made her escape. She ran to the highest tower and burst out onto the roof, gulping the cool, fresh air.

Beca was trying to keep her breaths even in an effort to calm herself down. Her hands were braced against the mildewed parapet and the solid feel of the cold stone underneath her hands finally calmed her. That was, without a doubt, the single most frightening experience of her young life.

She felt a little bit better being out in the open like this. Beca pushed herself up onto the parapet and sat on the edge, her legs dangling down. She was hundreds of feet above ground. It was a long, long way down but she was not frightened. Not even one bit. Her father would probably die of horror seeing her on a seat as precarious as this but she did not care.

She loved it when she was high up like this.

She could see for miles. She could feel the wind in her face and hair. And she felt closer to the sun. Everything looked so tiny and insignificant from up here. The late afternoon sun was still warm on her face and she sat there for a long, long while just enjoying the wind and the sun. Sometimes Beca just wished the wind would carry her. Carry her away somewhere. She did not care where.

The wind had picked up a little and Beca rubbed her arms to stay warm. Her eyes then caught sight of a retinue of carriages making their way up through the main thoroughfare to the castle.

Was it that late already?

Beca turned to look at the position of the sun.

Yes, it was.

It was nearly time for her farewell feast.

She must have spent hours up here, watching everyone going about their lives. No doubt Lady Shelagh would have recovered from her earlier faint and was now hysterical looking for her. And the maidservants were probably in disarray. Beca laughed a little at that.

Her gaze fell back to the guests arriving for the banquet. The neighbouring factions might not be on the best of terms but it was only courteous for Lord Mitchell to invite both friend and foe to his only daughter's farewell feast. It was the done thing. No one would refuse.

Her eyes were searching for a face in that crowd and even from that distance she could picked him out. Blonde and beautiful, astride that fair white horse. It was not hard to pick him out. He shone like a star amongst the drabness; a crest of white foam on top of a dark wave. He was riding beside the black carriage bearing the O'Cullenain's coat of arms. holding the reins masterfully, riding easy on the saddle. He was made to be noticed. He was made to make other men feel inferior. She was sure of that.

Lucius O'Cullenain. Luke O'Cullenain.

Even his name rolled off her tongue, sweet and slow like molten sugar. As though he could hear her whispering his name, Luke O'Cullenain raised his head and looked straight in her direction.

Beca gasped a little.

Surely he could not make her out over that distance? She would be like a tiny speck. He was smiling at her. She did not know how she knew it but he was. It was like he knew she was looking at him and it amused him greatly.

Beca's cheeks flushed red and she hastily got down from the parapet. She pulled the ends of her hair nervously. What was it about that blonde man that always unnerved her? She had always been confident and self assured; that was her upbringing as a lady. She could kept her composure and grace in most situation but a few moments in his company, she would unravel and blush like schoolgirl.

It was like he weaved a hypnotic spell on her.

Beca shook her head at that thought.

That was just silly.

Spells? This was not some faerie tale.

Beca smiled a little, thinking about the feast ahead. Talking about tricks and spells, she might have a few up her sleeve. She had to head back to her room and get ready soon. And if Beca was going to meet the dashing and very handsome Luke O'Cullenain, she might as well look her very, very best. So beautiful that perhaps he would find it hard to forgot her? Beca laughed a little as she quickly ran down the steps from the tower. She didn't notice a pair of dark eyes watching her every move.

* * *

This was just terrible.

A catastrophe.

An insult of the highest order.

He was a warrior, for goodness sake.

Not a nanny. Not a nursemaid. Certainly not a babysitter.

That spoilt brat had ran out of her bridal fitting admist chaos and disappeared. Like a lowly servant, he was bidden to look for her and ensure that she was safe. It had been very easy to track her down. He found her, dangling precariously on that ledge, not a care in the world, not even worried that she could fall to her death while the rest of the castle was in an uproar looking for her. He felt like yanking her back from that ledge and chastising her severely.

Shallow, spoilt brat with wool for brains.

He hated it.

He hated having to track her down when she disappeared. He hated having to hide in the shadows once he found her. And he hated having to stay and watch over her as she just sat there.

It was a waste of his time.

Jesse gritted his teeth a little angrily. Right after she left, he had to slunk out of his hiding place in the tower like a common thief and leave the tower.

_"You found her?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Where is she now?"_

_"Safe in her room."_

_"Good. "_

There was a short pause. Jesse was walking carefully down the steep stairway before the voice started up conversationally again.

_"It wasn't that hard to find her, was it?"_

Jesse suddenly realised something and it made him feel like a buffoon.

_"You knew where she was all this time!"_

He heard that chuckle in his mind.

_"Why did you sent me on a fool's errand?"_ Jesse questioned, trying to keep a lid on his temper.

Again he could hear the shrug before he was answered.

_"It was important. You need to know her scent."_

Jesse was a little angry but he could not argue with that. It made sense. Their kind was sensitive. Too many humans, too many smells. It was a practiced skill to keep track of one particular scent in amongst the many conflicting smells in this place. But once he was familiar with her scent, he knew he could have find her blindfolded.

Jesse wondered why he never picked it up before. It was very hard to ignore her. Granted, he had only been in the stronghold less than a week but her scent was everywhere. She smelled like clean linen drying in the sun. Like peaches, hanging low and luscious on the branch. And bright, yellow lemons. Like the sweetest strawberries, warm and ripened by the sun. Like green grass growing by a warm riverbank.

It had been windy up there in the tower and Jesse was almost overwhelmed by her beautiful scent carried to him by the wind. If he closed his eyes or if he was in his other form, he could see it. Her scent trails in all their glory; gold and yellows, orange and red. He felt warm just thinking about it; warm and happy like he was lying on the grass with the sun on his face.

Jesse stopped in his tracks.

Did he just smiled and walked with his eyes closed like a lunatic? Why was he smiling, for goodness sake? He was annoyed. Yes, annoyed and frustrated at this job given to him. The lady who was too spoilt for her own good. And he was the wrong person for this job.

He was sure of it.

So why the hell was he trying to pick up her scent again? In this almost trance-like manner?

Stupid, bratty princesses with stupid lovely scent.

_"I need to talk to you, Bumper."_

_"You are talking to me now."_

_"No. I need to see you."_

_"Why?"_

_"I can't do this."_

_"You are being a BORE about this, Jesse."_

_"Bumper, I'm coming to see you."_

There was a moment silence before the voice said in his head. _"You know where to find me."_

* * *

"Amy! Are you trying to scalp me?" Beca was wailing as Amy mercilessly run the combs through her tangled curls. The buxom blonde flexed her hefty arms and paid no heed to the wailing brunette. Amy took out a pin from her mouth before saying. "I didn't ask you let your hair get all tangled up like this. Now, stay still."

Beca winced as she was subjected to more hair combing, convinced that her scalp would detach at the next pull. It was worth it though. After Amy was done, Beca's hair fell in lustrous waves behind her. Amy then proceed to braid it up in a complicated series of tucks and curls before adding the pearl ornaments into her hair. They shone burnished and bright against her dark hair.

Beca did not need to paint or whiten her face too much. She was already blessed with a porcelain complexion. What was just needed was a bit of lemon squashed on her lips to give the reds a darker shade when she applied the lip colour.

"Help me choose a gown, Amy."

"This one?"

"Ugh, no. That's far too much! It's like going to church. You can't see my chest in that."

"How about this one?"

"That is my night gown."

Amy rolled her eyes. "Too much. Too little. Make up your mind. Just wear nothing. I am sure that blonde god won't mind."

"Amy! I'm a lady! I have to be modest!" Beca protested. She ran her eyes through her wardrobe before breaking into a huge grin when she found the right gown. "Well, maybe not TOO modest."

* * *

He found him at the lower lookout point at the front of the castle. Commander Allen was wrapped up in his faded maroon cloak, looking out at the courtyard.

"Commander Allen."

It was a little strange calling him that. Jesse knew him as Bumper from another life but it was important to observe protocol in a place such as this. There were eyes and ears everywhere. Bumper turned around and nodded briefly before turning back to observing the activity in the courtyard.

"You found me." The older man said. "Now talk."

Jesse stepped up next to Bumper. It took him a few moments to marshal his thoughts.

"Send someone else. I cannot do this."

"This is not like you, Jesse," Bumper said, not sounding too pleased. "Will you get off your high horse? This is an important mission. I am not trying to punish or insult you."

Jesse felt his Commander's displeasure and bit his lower lip.

"I know. I'm sorry. I assure you I am not being difficult.," Jesse apologised. "I just thought perhaps it's better to get another to do this. Anastasia perhaps? She would have greater access to the lady and could protect her more closely."

Bumper rumbled a little as he gave it some thought.

"Anastasia's not here."

"Yes. But if you summon her, Stacie will come. She travels fast."

Bumper was drumming his fingers on the parapet in front of him, making quick mental calculations in his head. He then looked shrewdly at the sullen young man beside him. "There's more to this, isn't it? You met the lady at the stables the other day?"

Jesse was quite surprised he knew that. No, actually he shouldn't be. Bumper would know everything that happened under this roof and it would be futile to lie to him.

"Yes."

"And?"

Jesse closed his eyes, colouring at the huge mistake he made.

"I had mistaken her for a stable boy, shouted at her and grabbed her arm."

Bumper broke into loud guffaws much to the young man's consternation. He didn't really need any more shame heaped on him.

"To be fair, she stole my horse and rode it without permission!"

"Lady Rebecca rode Shadow?"

"Yes."

"And Shadow let her?"

"Yes. I was very surprised she was still alive."

"I am surprised YOU are still alive, Jesse," Bumper chortled, wiping his tears. "Lady Rebecca does not take too kindly to be so roughly manhandled."

"So I gathered."

"What else?" Bumper pressed. "Out with it, Jesse. Before I force it out of you."

Jesse tried to keep his expression neutral. But he knew it was fruitless. Bumper was standing beside him, arms crossed on his chest. He could and would force it out of him and it would be less painful if he confess willingly. Jesse was still not entirely sure why he loathed this so much.

"She...infuriates me."

Bumper just quirked an eyebrow, waiting for more.

"Everytime I am around her, I get so confused and frustrated and angry," Jesse said finally. He turned away so he would not have to look at Bumper directly. "When I mistakenly held her arm the other day, I could not think clearly. I had to transform and ran for the rest of the night just to clear my head."

Even saying his doubts out loud still muddled him up. Jesse prided himself in his ability to think clearly. He still could not figure out what was happening and why he was behaving this way.

"I am not sure I can protect her well if I am so... irrational...around her. "

It was a good thing Jesse was looking away because Bumper found it hard trying to hide a smile.

"Hmm. That is interesting," Bumper replied.

He took a moment to look at the miserable young man before him. Bumper had known Jesse at a different time. He was not always like this. Morose, angry, miserable. There was a time when a smile was never far from his lips, a laugh, a twinkle in his eye. Jesse had been cheerful and happy.

Until that incident.

He was not to be blamed. He was very young, just getting used to the gift their kind had been blessed with. It was unfortunate that the girl was silly and unaware and goaded him endlessly. And she crossed paths with him during the Phase and when the fire blood was raging through him. It was like she was courting her own death.

He had been too young, far too inexperienced to control himself. Bumper had been too late to help and until now, even after seven long years, Jesse still blamed himself severely for what had happened. He had felt her blood was on his hands. He had felt the gift was a curse.

And until now as much as he could, he tried to deny what was within. What he truly was. He strained against it. Desperate. Desperately trying to tame the wild beast within. Bumper knew that if only he had been in touch with his animal side, Jesse would know exactly why he was feeling this way.

He took a few more moments to think before finally saying. "It would take too long for Stacie to travel here; no matter how fast she is. You are to stay in your current position, Jesse. Dismissed."

Jesse fought down that snort of disgust. Well, all that carefully planned arguments did not worked. He respected the older man too much to cross him any further. Jesse stepped back, ready to walk away when Bumper called out to him. "And Jesse, you are to attend the feast tonight."

Jesse's jaw tightened at that. This was more than a little frustrating.

"I was hoping for some time to hunt tonight, Commander," Jesse said testily.

"No, stay close."

"Do I have to be inside?"

"Yes," Bumper said, smiling a little. "And I expect you to be charming. And to dance."

Jesse frowned deeply at that. He loathed dancing. "Why should I dance? I am not... good God! What is that stench?"

Jesse nearly had to cover the lower half of his face. Unpleasant images flashed across his mind and he could feel the animal in him rearing up, begging to be let loose. He took quick, shallow breaths through his mouth in an effort to calm down. Bumper was already turning towards the courtyard, looking at the carriages arriving now.

"They are here."

* * *

**In the Grand Hall**

"Lord Mitchell. Mi'lady Shelagh."

Lord Mitchell was shaking hands with a guest when he heard that voice. His smile widened as he turned to the new guests who were just arriving.

"Lord O'Cullenain. So good of you to come." He shook hands with him whilst his eyes roamed behind Lord O'Cullenain, taking in the size of his retinue. "My dear sir! You honour me with your presence. And that of your household!"

"Come! Come! It is you who honoured us with this invite," Lord O'Cullenain protested, his hand pumping Lord Mitchell's enthusiastically, his eyes shining with faked sincerity. "We have to come. Especially since we would be bereft of the lovely Lady Rebecca 'ere long."

Lord Mitchell met the cold eyes squarely.

"Yes, Lord de Lessops made us an offer we could not refuse. It would be good for her to go. She is of the right age."

"Yes. Yes, of course. Exactly at the right age," Lord O'Cullenain murmured. He then picked up his voice and said, "So where is the Lady Beca? My old eyes will miss seeing her pretty face. I have to see her before she goes."

"Of course, my old friend," Lord Mitchell said jovially, clapping him a little too hard on the shoulder. Lord O'Cullenain fought down that scowl. "She would be along shortly. I dare say she was making herself presentable. You know how it is with daughters."

"I wouldn't know," Lord O'Cullenain said a little crossly as he rubbed his sore shoulder. "I only have sons."

"Ah! Here she is now."

All eyes swivelled to the high double doors as Lady Rebecca appeared at the grand entrance. There was a slight hush as she paused. Her fair hands picked up the full skirts of her dark green velvet gown before she descended the small flight of steps, stepping daintily on each step in her gold slippers. Her hair was dark with winks of lustrous pearls, her skin paler still against that dark green gown, her waist tiny embellished with a gold belt and her lips were as red as cherries. She looked stunning. The conversation in the room started again once she had walked down the row of curtseys and was now standing by her father.

"Rebecca, perfect timing. Lord O'Cullenain was just asking for you," her father said.

"Good evening, Lord O'Cullenain," Beca said, smiling charmingly at the old man and offering out her pale hand. "I do apologise if I had made you wait. It was very rude of me."

"My dear Lady Rebecca," Lord O'Cullenain said, taking her hand in both of his. "Time and tide wait for no man. But I swear they will wait for you."

Beca laughed lightly at the compliment, her blue eyes dancing.

"I am desolate, mi'lady Beca. That you will soon bereft us of your presence," Lord O'Cullenain continued.

"I am bidden by my father, my lord," Beca answered. "And surely my father knows best."

"Yes. Yes. I am sure he does," Lord O'Cullenain answered, nodding slowly. He then smiled and turned a little. "Have you met my eldest, Lady Rebecca? I am not sure whether you have made his acquaintance."

Beca glanced up at the smiling blonde man, trying to keep that faint flush away from her cheeks.

"Yes. Very briefly," she said, keeping her voice light. "How do you do, Sir Luke?"

She offered her hand and Luke took it. He lowered his head and pressed his lips lightly on the back of her hand, his eyes staring into hers.

"Very well, Lady Rebecca. I trust you are well?" he answered softly.

Beca nodded, not entirely trusting herself to answer. His lips were cool on her hand yet she thought her skin was burning. His lips lingered a fraction too long. Her smile was still steady on her lips but she thought her heart as beating out of her chest. He straightened up, still smiling down at her and she took her hand away, tucking it into her side.

There was an awkward pause and Lord Mitchell cleared his throat loudly.

"I think dinner is served?"

The rest nodded, eager for the timely interruption. Lord Mitchell led the way, offering his arm to Lady Shelagh. Old Lord O'Cullenain had offered his to Beca, which she had accepted graciously. But she could not wishing she was holding on to the arm of the handsome blonde walking behind her.

* * *

**Later in the evening, after dinner**

Don't look. Just don't look at him.

Beca was repeating those words over and over in her mind throughout the long dinner. She was sat on her father's right and had made polite conversation to the guest on the other side. Her eyes had strayed more than once down the table to where he was. Only to find him catching her looking. It was embarrassing. Especially when he looked so amused having caught her out.

The dinner and the speeches felt far too long.

They were now back in the Grand Hall, ready for the merry part of the evening. The music was gay, the dancing was starting and the mead was flowing.

"You are staring at him again."

Beca started and whirled around. Amy was smiling smugly at her, tapping her fan on the palm of her hand.

"No, I'm not!" Beca hissed back.

"Yes, you are."

Beca opened her mouth to protest again but promptly shut it when she noticed Luke was talking to a bevy of ladies who were all simpering up at him.

"What is he doing? Is he asking them to dance?" Beca said a little too heatedly. She frowned for a millisecond before carefully slipping on a nonchalant mask. Amy stared at what Beca was looking at before replying.

"Eh. Chill dude. 'is nothing."

Beca's frown was back. "What tongue are you speaking in, Amy?"

Amy was doing it again. Sometimes she slipped into another tongue, saying the strangest things that sounds like English but Beca could not make head or tail of it.

"Fret not. Your suitor's heart is true," Amy was now saying. "Although to be honest, I am sure you are more interested in other parts of his body, rather than his heart."

"Amy!"

...

"How can you stand it?"

Jesse's back was towards the crowd as he said those words lowly to Commander Allen. He was, in turn, facing the room, eyes keenly scanning the space.

"What?" he answered Jesse casually.

"The stench. It reeks. How can you stand it?"

"With great forbearance." Bumper smiled smugly.

Jesse looked over his shoulder at the source of his irritation.

"They are welcomed here?"

"Keep your friends close. But your enemies closer."

"I am having a hard time controlling myself. Let alone be civil."

Jesse'a mouth was pressed in a hard line in an effort to keep still.

"You can. And you will." Bumper said sternly. He nodded slowly to a few O'Cullenains, who were staring at him and Jesse with great dislike. Bumper grinned widely and bared his teeth. That grin did not reach his eyes.

"There's too many of them." Jesse said, now staring at the same group.

"They will not do anything here," Bumper replied, shifting a little. "It would be a great disrespect to the host."

"Are they from one of the old families? They don't feel that old."

"No. I don't think so."

"So they just came here for the dancing? I thought they only surface to feed."

Bumper looked away from staring at the group and focussed on Jesse.

"Take a good look. They covet only one thing in this room. So much so they are willing to come all the way here and make nice."

Jesse's eyes flickered everywhere picking up one visual clue after another. Comprehension dawned on him.

"Ah."

"Now you understand why I need you?"

"Yes."

"She is in great danger."

Something primal howled within him. Jesse almost shuddered. His eyes automatically seeked her. The lady in the dark green gown. When she had entered the room just now, he thought his heart would stop.

He picked up her scent first, of course. Before she entered the room. That warm, sun drenched scent. And he had eagerly turned to look for her. She was like a vision. She paused in the doorway in her dress, dark green like moss with that gold belt emphasising her tiny waist. The bodice tight and the neckline low enough that he could see the milky tops of her creamy breasts.

He had looked away immediately.

Jesse had sternly and very angrily castigated himself for having such thoughts. She may looked like an angel earth-bound but she was still an impudent, unruly girl who was more trouble than she's worth.

She was standing to one side now, speaking and laughing with that well-built blonde lady. But her eyes were not entirely still. The lingering looks. The half hidden smiles. The unspoken words between her and that tall, blonde parasite across the room. Jesse saw it all and a very low growl rumbled from his throat.

_"Why are you growling?"_

Jesse's head snapped back to look at Bumper. He was serenely observing the room.

_"I was not growling_."

_"Yes, you were"_ - he sounded highly amused - "_Just now. I could hear it"._

_"I was not "_- Jesse answered petulantly, scowling a little now. His eyes tracked back to Lady Rebecca immediately. She was still beside that blonde lady who was demurely whispering to her behind her fan. Her head was cocked to one side, listening, her eyes twinkling. She had a naughty half smile on her lips. A smile that was doing funny things to Jesse's insides.

_"You should let him out more often, you know_."

Jesse huffed a little, eyes still glued on her.

_"I don't know what you are talking about."_

_"Yes, you do. It is not healthy to keep him caged like that."_

_"You know why I have to do it, Bumper."_

_"Embrace your gift, Jesse. It is your birthright."_

_"Not if I can help it."_

Bumper was laughing in his head now.

_"You used to be so much fun, Jesse. Now you are such a bore. Now stop staring at her."_

Jesse did not answer. Because the music was starting up for the next dance and she was moving across the room. The blonde parasite was moving too, together with the other lladies and gents taking up the places for the next dance.

They were one gent short.

_"I think it's about time you start having fun."_

Jesse was about to turn away when Bumper grabbed his shoulder, reeled him round and pushed him straight into the dance floor. He was about to jump back and swear at Bumper, who had the widest grin on his face. But seeing the curious looks from the other guests, Jesse straightened up and took his place on Lady Beca's left.

Looks like he would have to dance, come hell or high water.

Beca glanced curiously at the knight who had ungainly took the place on her left. She did not have time to look at him properly because the music was in full flow now and her partner on the right was now bowing before her. He raised his head, looking at her with that devastating half smile.

"Why, it's you, Sir Luke," Beca smile coquettishly, offering her hand out as part of the dance.

"Mi'lady Beca."

"Oh, you remembered my name?" she said with mock surprise . "I thought you might have forgotten it."

"How so?" came the reply. Luke looked a little amused at the pretend resignation on her face. He was whirling her round now and her gown spun out beautifully around her.

"Oh. Perhaps those lovely ladies..." Beca said, nodding towards the ladies he was talking to earlier. "...might have made your memory a little short."

"Never, mi'lady. You are beyond compare, " Luke answered, still smiling. "They are but the pale moon and you are the sun."

Beca laughed out loud. He was lifting her by the waist, moving in a full circle. The look that he was giving her made her flush. His arms had lifted her so easily like she weigh nothing, his hands circling her tiny waist. He had placed her down lightly, moving away. Beca almost regret the loss of his hand on her.

"Do you always pay such extravagant compliments, sir Luke?"

"Only when it's deserved."

"My! You have a sweet tongue, good sir," she teased.

"So I do," Luke answered. His mouth twisted in a half smile. "But I've been told my lips are sweeter."

She could not stop that train of thought. The thought of his lips on the back of her hand, on her lips, on her skin, on other parts of her body. Beca was blushing red now. Luke was laughing lightly now, amused at her discomfort. He was dangerous and she was unravelling.

Thankfully it was time to change to her partner on the left. Beca was glad about that. It would give her some space to breathe. She offered her hand out to her partner, her mind still on the dashing blonde man.

The young knight took her offered hand. Beca was a little startled at how warm his hand was and she looked curiously at him. He's new. But familiar. She must have seen him before, surely? Dark, brown curly hair. Dark eyes. He was somewhat handsome except for that frown, his face looking like it had been slapped by a fish.

OH!

"I know you, sir knight." Beca said.

"Mi'lady Rebecca," he answered, sounding a little cross. "We've met."

Beca stiffened a little at that tone. That insolent knight at the stables.

"And today you know who I am," Beca replied drily.

"Yes, mi'lady," he answered, equally dry. "Today you are wearing a dress."

Beca's face turned stony. Why was this knight being so rude? No one had ever spoken to her like that before. He was whirling her round now and she had a good mind to stomp on his foot.

_"Good God! Are you trying to get yourself killed?"_

Jesse turned to look at Bumper who was watching him with morbid fascination. And he trodded on Beca's foot by mistake.

"Ouch!" Beca yelped more in surprise than pain. Jesse was utterly mortified and he was blushing furiously now.

"My apologies, mi'lady," he stuttered. Beca just shook her head in disbelief.

_"You are going to be hung, drawn and quartered."_

_"Get out of my head, Bumper. You are distracting me!"_

_"She's going to kill you. Do something, Jesse! Pay her a compliment."_

"Umm...you dance very well, mi'lady," he tried.

"Thank you," Beca replied stonily. "I dance better with two working feet."

_"She is definitely going to kill you."_

_"Shut up, Bumper. You are not helping."_

_"Talk about something else. Talk about horses."_

He was lifting her up by the waist now. "Shadow asked for you." Jesse mumbled, looking up at her. Beca looked down at him a little strangely, her blue eyes shining like sapphires. He let her down a little too quickly. Like his hands were scalded.

"Shadow?" She asked.

"Yes...erm... My horse. The one you took out the other day."

"What kind of knight talk to a horse?" Beca asked incredulously.

"What kind of lady steals a horse?" he spat out without thinking.

Beca's expression turned from incredulous to thunderous in a split second.

Jesse could not blushed any redder. What is wrong with him? This was not him. He was not this rude, uncivilised boor, going around insulting well bred ladies and threading on their foot. He was a graceful dancer usually.

No, it was her fault. She was just impossible. And he just couldn't.

Their turn finished and Jesse was a little relieved. He could not embarrassed himself more than he already had. He bowed deeply, handing her over to her previous partner. For a marginal moment, the two men were looking squarely at each other eyes. And something akin to mutual hatred flared between them.

Jesse was first to turn away; paying attention to his new partner.

* * *

Bumper looked in disbelief at the scene in front of him. He did not know whether to laugh out loud or to cry. For a moment, his attention had been diverted from the brace of leeches in that room.

He noted the sullen expression on Jesse's face. The tightness of his jaw. The way his dark eyes flashed. Bumper could definitely hear the beast within clamouring to get out. He mentally ran past the exchange between Jesse and Lady Rebecca. His gawkiness, the clumsy way he tried to pay the lady compliments, the confusion clearly on his face as he touched her. And Bumper had to chuckle lowly.

That poor boy got it bad. And he didn't even know it.

* * *

Jesse smiled courteously at the buxom blonde, bowing low and taking her offered hand. The lady was watching him shrewdly, her eyes beadily assessing him like she was dissecting his thoughts and intentions.

"What is your name, sir knight?" she asked imperiously.

"James Swanson, mi'lady."

The lady nodded, smiling slightly.

"But you don't like that name."

Jess whipped his head up to look at the blonde lady closer. She was very astute.

"If mi'lady calls me Jesse, I will be content."

She slowly nodded, still looking at him.

"What are your intentions with the Lady Beca?"

The question was certainly unexpected and Jesse did not know quite how to answer her.

"Know you if your intentions are false and you meant her harm, you'll have me to contend with," she was now saying fiercely.

It took Jesse a mere moment to work it out who she was. And when he did, he smiled at the lady with something akin to relief.

"You must be Lady Amelia."

"Amy. Fat Amy to you."

Jesse nodded.

"Commander Allen bade me to speak to you."

* * *

"Who is that?" Luke murmured to Beca, throwing another glance at the dark-haired man.

"I don't really know,' Beca said. Her eyes swivelled to look at that man. He was dancing with Amy now and they were talking. That was most odd. She was sure Amy didn't know him that well yet they were so deep in conversation their heads were almost touching. He was most odd. No one had ever spoken to her like that before. He was rude and awkward and offensive . And she was sure he hated her. It was intriguing and...refreshing.

Luke saw how Beca was still staring at that interloper. She was still dancing with him; the schooled steps coming naturally to her but she was still frowning at that dark-haired man. Luke looked askance at him in disgust. He was a dog; a nasty inbred mongrel.

"Beca,' he whispered. They were near enough for his breath to feel cool against her cheek. Beca started at his familiarity. She did not turned to him. It would have been too obvious to those watching. But he knew he had her full attention.

"I need to see you tonight."

"I'm not sure..." she whispered slowly, her eyes flickering nervously towards her father sitting drinking at the other side of the hall.

"Please, my love," he pleaded in a whisper. "It may the last time I see you."

She sighed before nodding quickly, "At the usual place? I will speak to Amy."

"No, without Amy. I'll come to your room."

"This is dangerous, Luke."

"Are you going to deny me my last goodbye?"

The music drew to a stop and they were now facing each other. The dancers and the rest of the guests clapped appreciatively. And within that din, Beca leaned back and whispered." I cannot deny you anything. It is as you wish. I'll see you on my balcony anon."

She then moved away swiftly before anyone could catch them talking again.

* * *

_A/N. Thank you for all the love. I am so sorry this story is rambling and such a slow burn. There are stuff that needs to be laid down. _


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

**At the farewell feast, a little later**

"My lord."

Luke loathed to take his eyes of her. She was as breathtaking as when he first saw her and he could not look away. But he could detect that note of urgency in that voice and he turned his head slightly, quickly taking in the sight of the pale lackey at his shoulder.

"Grimm, what news?"

"They are hungry, mi'lord," the lackey replied, jerking his head slightly towards the back of the room. Luke turned to look at whom his lackey was gesturing at and he pressed his lips hard in frustration. Three of his father's men; recently turned. Luke knew they were not entirely ready to mix in public like this but his father had insisted they were to come. And like the dutiful son he was, Luke had concurred.

He could sense it.

In amongst the plethora of thoughts and feelings in this room, on top of that very annoying, very pervasive smell of wet dog, he could sense their ravaging hunger. And Luke O'Cullenain immediately took matters into his hands.

"That one's looks especially delicious," one of them whispered.

"No, you don't want that one. Far too thin," another whispered back. "You want a nice, plump one. They are always so grateful for the attention. And they taste so rich."

The trio chortled heartily, their eyes bright with the possibilities before them. They didn't see the blonde man striding over to them until he bore down on them, eyes flashing, jaw set in a grim line.

"Perusing the banquet, by any chance?" Luke's voice was colder than ice. They had the grace to look down in guilt. "Need I remind you we are guests?"

Luke stared at the three of them in turn. Each man avoided his eyes, only too aware of what could happen if they dared to disobey. They would be torn from limb to limb. It would be wiser to stay quiet. But hunger can be a strange thing. Luke was about to turn away when one of then piped up, "But mi'lord, are we to starve? When there is this willing feast before us?"

It was a blur. He moved so quickly that no one would notice. In that instant, the insolent man's face was pinched with pain, his arm twisted grostesquely behind him in Luke's iron grip. He whimpered. Anyone looking would think Luke was casually standing behind him. No one would see how tight he was holding that arm, how his nails were now like claws raking into the flesh of that stupid, brazen cur.

"Control your thirst!" Luke hissed. "If this is too much for you, go outside!"

With another wrench of his hand, the man nearly yelped. Luke let go in disgust. The three looked suitably cowed and he immediately left them and headed towards his father. Lord O'Cullenain was downing yet another goblet of wine and saw his son purposefully striding towards him. "Ah, my son wants a word with me!" Lord O'Cullenain said a little drunkenly. "Excuse me, my lords." He stood up and walked a little unsteadily before laying a heavy hand on Luke for support.

"Father."

"I am well! I am well!" Lord O'Cullenain declared, a comical grimace on his face. He leaned heavily into his son like he was trying to steady himself. It was an act, of course. His eyes were clear and his grip steady.

"Something is bothering you, my son."

"Those three are trouble, father," Luke muttered indignantly, glancing back the troublesome three.

"I'll keep an eye on them. Don't worry," his father replied. His eyes then narrowed a little. "Are you to see her?"

"Yes."

"Good. She's retired to bed. The time is nigh."

Luke glanced quickly round the room and it was true. Beca was gone.

"Don't be hasty. She has to be plucked at the right moment," the older O'Cullenain whispered.

"I hear you, father."

"Remember, Luke. She has to be willing." Lord O'Cullenain's eyes were bright. "She has to be willing. Or she will be no use to us."

* * *

Beca kicked off her gold slippers as soon as she stepped into her room. She sat down on the hard, wooden chair, taking off the lustrous pearls from around her pale neck, letting the strand rippled off her fingers onto a velvet cloth. She then took off the matching earrings, placing them carefully on the same cloth.

It had been a worthy farewell feast, full of fun and music. Beca wished she could have stayed a little longer but a lady should always know when to leave. Damn it, she wished she was no lady. She wouldn't mind dancing another dance; perhaps flirting a little more. Lord knows when would be the next time she could do such things.

A flit of frustration crossed her face.

No, there wouldn't be a next time. She would be a wedded woman soon.

"That was some feast!"

Beca turned around, smiling. Amy was bustling into her room, without a knock as usual, her loud voice clarion enough for her entrance.

"Woooo! I've never danced so much!" Amy declared, slumping onto a seat. She kicked off her shoes and rubbed her sore foot. "How's your feet, Beca?"

Beca looked down at her right foot, poking out from underneath her gown and rotated it slowly. "Fine. Perfectly fine." A frown creased her forehead. " Although that stupid knight did try to break this one."

Beca glowered at thought of that dark haired, rude knight. Treading on her foot. The nerve! And did he actually called her a thief? Of all the boorish, crude, offensive things he could say. Fine! It was true she did take his horse without hispermission but to say it like that! He must have a death wish, insulting her like that. That knight was a peasant! An uneducated, surly, unkempt, clumsy peasant! She hoped she'll never see him again. Whatever his name was.

"Jesse."

Beca snapped back and looked at Amy. "What?"

"The knight who stepped on your foot. His name is Jesse."

"What a strange name," Beca mumbled. She began to pull out the pearl ornaments from her hair. Amy got up, strode over and began to help her. They were silent for a minute and Beca waited until Amy was brushing out her hair, before speaking up again. "You seem quite taken with him."

Amy's brushing was bordering on yanking and Beca yelped a little.

"Eh. He's good looking. In a broody sort of way," Amy said dismissively. "His arms were quite strong."

Beca coloured a little, remembering how those arms had lifted her ,him looking up at her with his dark eyes. He had mumbled something about horses and let her down far too quickly; like he had been burned.

"You both seem to be quite cosy." Beca said, trying to sound casual.

"Hmm.."

"Chatting, talking, heads together..."

"So, you were looking."

"What? No. I have no interest in that...that peasant!"

"And yet you were looking." Amy said slyly. "I didn't even ask whether you are interested."

"No, I'm not. And I wasn't looking."

"The lady doth protest too much, " Amy smirked before finishing the last brush with a flourish and placing the silver backed brush on the table. Beca's face was a shade of pink. All this hard hair brushing was making her face pink. Yes, that was it. Nothing to do with whatever nonsense Amy was saying.

"Will you be able to undress without my help tonight?"

"Oh," Beca said, a little surprise. "Are you heading out?"

Amy shrugged a little and smiled.

"Amy! You've just met him!" Beca squealed a little. The thought of Amy sneaking out to meet that dark haired knight was highly improper. They hardly know him.

"No, not him,"Amy merely rolled her eyes at her brunette friend. Her eyes glazed over for a minute like she was in deep thought and Amy broke into a smile. "Besides, he is not mine."

Beca was a little preoccupied now to pay heed to Amy's words. She was busy unhooking her gown, her back to Amy and Beca was a little glad about that. That way Amy could not see the look of utter relief on her face. Luke was to come to her room later. Beca knew Amy would not approve and she could not lie to her best friend. She could hear Amy moving to the door and Beca turned to face her friend. "Stay out of trouble, Amy!" Beca shouted after her. Only to be answered by another shrug and a non-committal sort of snort.

* * *

He could not do it. He could not.

It was impossible.

He tried. And tried. And failed.

And he hated to fail.

Jesse stalked out of the castle, leaving the warmth and merriment behind. Once he had finished what he needed to do, he headed for the exit straightaway, not even asking leave from Commander Allen. For once, Bumper had let him passed without a word. He still had that look of morbid fascination on his face and Jesse pretended he did not know what was that all about.

He just needed to get out.

Her scent. It was everywhere.

And now clinging to him. To his hands when he held hers in the dance. Along his arms when he supported her in that lift during the dance. He needed to get it off. He needed to wash it off. He was hurrying along, desperate to get away now. He needed to feel the cold air on his face, the earth under his feet and smell any other scent. Any other scent beside this warm, sun-drenched scent of hers that was clinging tenaciously to him. Jesse almost broke into a run as he approached the stables.

A little later, that poor village idiot did not quite know what he saw. Anyone asking him would only get a gabble of words. One moment, he saw a dark, great brute of a horse with a white streak, surely risen from the depths of hell, clattering down the dirt road. A dark rider hidden deep in his cloak sat astride the beast. Then the next moment, the rider seemed to collapse forward. The village idiot swore the rider was headless.

And then before long, he heard a deep, rending growl. He had ran as fast as he could. He prayed he would not trip on anything. He prayed for his life. He prayed for deliverance from that monster behind him. Especially when he heard that chilling sound of a wolf howling at the moon.

* * *

"Mi'lady!"

Beca was standing on the balcony of her bedroom, waiting, a black sable cloak wrapped around her tiny form. Her balcony opened out to the woods behind the castle and it was chilly at this time of the night. She pulled the fur cloak around her tighter as she leaned forward on the balustrade. She had heard the urgent whisper and tried to find the owner in that pitch darkness below her.

"Who's there?" she whispered.

"Are you alone?"

Beca glanced behind into her room, a little worried perhaps Amy had cut short her little night visit. No, she was alone.

"If you are whom I think you are, good sir, I am perfectly alone."

She heard a rustle and stepped back and before long, a pair of hands were on the balustrade, followed by strong arms and then Luke O'Cullenain languidly pulled himself over and settled down on the stonework. He lounged on that balustrade, smiling at her and for a moment, Beca forgot herself.

She stared. At this perfect specimen of manhood.

Luke O'Cullenain was a sight to behold. He was paler than Beca remembered. Much paler, she thought. But it could be because of the moonlight and his clothes, the black and red colours of his house. His skin glowed pale silver in the moonlight, his hair spun gold. It was hard not to run her eyes over him. So pale. But no less handsome. No, not with those hypnotising green eyes. Eyes like the greenest jade.

It took a few moments for her to shake off that stupid stupor and Beca suddenly wondered how in the world did Luke climbed all the way up her balcony. Her room was high up the tower - at the insistence of her father only too aware of what mischief she could get up to. There were no trellis and the foothold was slippery on that stone wall. There was a covering of ivy, but surely not strong enough to take the weight of a grown man.

Beca frowned a little.

"How did you climb up?" she jested. "Did you fly?"

Luke just smiled and merely replied. "I'm a very good climber."

He hopped to his feet and came closer and yet again, Beca could not think straight. She forgot that little niggle about the climb and smiled up at the blonde man.

"You wanted to see me, Sir Luke?"

Curses! Why was her voice so shaky? He must not think she was nervous. He must be led to think she did this all the time; entertaining young gentleman at her balcony in the middle of the night. Yes. That would be right.

No. Wait. That could not be right.

No, he must not think that either.

Beca pouted a little in frustration. Her thoughts were muddled again. And then she heard him laughing softly and her thoughts were more confused as he stepped closer.

"Why so formal, my sweeting?" His voice was a caress. "Surely I get a little kiss?"

She nodded a little, turning up her face and he covered the little distance in a mere moment. His cool lips descended onto hers. His hands were cradling her face as he deepened the kiss.

She was pliant under his hands. He could feel that sweet hammering of her heart against him. So sweet, so alive. His hands were on her neck and he could feel her pulse under his palm, her blood coursing through and for a moment, he was lost into that kiss, his mind screaming with all the delicious possibilities.

Perhaps this was not entirely a good idea - Beca thought. She suddenly irrationally wished Amy was here. She would have coughed loudly and break the moment. Beca would flushed red and Luke would have stepped back. But without Amy, she felt she almost helpless; like she was being swept out to sea. As if hearing her thoughts, Luke broke the kiss and stepped back with a wry smile.

"I am so sorry. That little pout of yours nearly drove me to distraction."

Beca nodded dumbly and turned away, trying to hide her flaming face from him. She sat down on a little stone stool, urgently pulling the fur cloak round her. "It is good seeing you again." Beca said in a low whisper. "I was afraid I will not have a chance to say goodbye."

Luke was silent for a moment before answering. "Will this be goodbye?"

Beca was nervously lacing and unlacing her fingers underneath the coat. "You know very well I am betrothed to Lord de Lessops." She tried hard to keep her voice steady.

"I've heard," Luke replied. "It was very hard news for me to swallow."

"As it was to me," she whispered. "But I have to do a daughter's duty."

He was on his knees in front of her. His hands quested for hers under her cloak and he stared into her eyes as he held her hands.

"Would you?" Luke asked. "Would you go ahead with this? Is this what you want?"

"It does not matter what I want."

"You cannot marry Lord de Lessops. You don't love him, surely."

"Love has nothing to do with this," Beca said flatly.

"Then don't go."

"What would you have me do? Defy my father?" Beca said, her voice spiking. "Would you defy yours?"

He let go of her hands and sat back, his face unreadable. He need not say it; Beca knew his answer. She was not being fair to him.

"Come with me, Beca," Luke said suddenly. "We can be together for always. Just you and me."

Beca laughed mirthlessly. "And what a scandal this would be! Lord Mitchell's only daughter with the son of his enemy. Roving the high roads like vagabonds!"

"You are too beautiful to waste away in the De Lessops' cold castle," Luke replied. "Come with me, Beca. I'll make you my queen."

He was staring at her again with those green eyes. It was too intense - she felt like she had to look away but tried as she might, she could not. She could not think straight. Sensing her hesitation, Luke leaned closer, gently caressing her cheek.

"I've frightened you," he murmured. His fingers was gently running through the river that was her hair. "You need not defy your father, my lady. If you would come with me, I'll meet you along the road with my men in disguise. No one would know. They would think the brigands had attacked your caravan and carried you away."

"What about my father?" Beca whispered.

"He would be beside himself," Luke said, nodding slowly in thought. "But think how relieved he will be when he finds out that you are safe with me. And he will look upon us with favour."

Beca's breath hitched. "Do you think that would work?"

"Why not?" Luke whispered again, his voice a seductive spell. "Just say yes, my sweet."

"I don't..."

"Say yes."

"I.."

The scream that rend the air was bloodcurdling.

"Amy!" Beca leapt up to her feet, running to the edge of the balcony. Another high pitched scream cut through the night, followed by a cacophony of shouts and dogs barking. "Amy! Amy's hurt!"

Beca hurtled back into her room. She needed to hurry. Amy was hurt. She needed to help her. She needed to get dressed and find her. Beca's fingers fumbled with the fastening on her cloak, too distressed that she could not undo it. She then felt Luke's hands stilling hers.

"Stay here. I'll find out what's wrong."

"But Amy..."

"Hush. Stay here where you are safe," Luke said urgently. He walked out onto the balcony, with Beca behind him. Luke sat on the balustrade and swung his legs onto the other side. He turned back to face Beca.

"I'll take your leave, mi'lady. Please think of what I've said." Luke said, eyes not leaving her worried face. "And if you would come, just send me word."

She nodded slightly.

"One last kiss."

He asked and Beca obliged with a swift peck on his lips. He then slowly clambered down the wall, fingers and toes gripping tightly into the stonework. But when he was swallowed by the darkness and Beca could not longer see him, Luke let go of the wall, falling gracefully to the hard ground, forty feet down.

* * *

_Where are you?!_

_What? _

_God's earth! Come back now!_

_What's the matter? I'm hunting._

_I told you to stay close!_

_Bumper, what's wrong?_

_The parasites. They've attacked._

A cold shiver ran through Jesse. He skidded to a stop, turned on the spot and loped back as fast as he could.

_I'm on my way._

He should have known. No one could trust those parasites. Parasites feed on their host; everybody knew that. He should have stayed. He should have been on his guard. He should have not give in to his weakness and stayed at his post.

Jesse flew through the distance, feet hardly touching the ground. He could see Shadow right ahead, almost imperceptible in the darkness, exactly where he had left him. He slowed down. The transformation ran through him like a dark shudder and he leapt onto Shadow's back. He didn't even need to spur Shadow on. He was off quick as lightning as soon as Jesse landed on his back, his hands grabbing the reins. And Shadow galloped back to the castle like a beast out of hell.

* * *

Luke landed lightly on his feet and strode through that pitch darkness, away from the tower. That forty foot drop was nothing to him. Nor was this darkness. He could see very well. Anger always made his senses sharper and at this very moment, Luke O'Cullenain was furious. He had an inkling what was that scream about.

The torches burned bright against the dark night. He had to shield his eyes a little as he made his way towards the back of the castle, near the kitchens. Still more shouting, more torches. And he found the knot of vassals and Lord Mitchell's guards surrounding a patch of wall near the vegetable beds. He pushed through the crowd to the front.

"What happened here?"

Commander Allen was in front of him, kneeling in the dirt, his back towards Luke. At the sound of Luke's voice, he stood up and turned around, his maroon cloak whirling a little. Luke had said those words authoritatively and calmly but he nearly stepped back in surprise at the ferocity billowing out of the shorter man. He glared at the blonde man, his eyes beady and hard in the flickering light.

"A fine question," Commander Allen growled. "I would like to know the same."

He turned back and seemed to offer his hand to the person behind him. When he stood aside, Fat Amy was standing shakily, her dress now covered with dirt. There were scratches on her arm and cheek and her hair was in a mess.

"Lady Amelia!" Luke rushed forward. "Are you alright?"

She was shaking like a leaf, her breaths in gasps, her face blanched of any colour.

"Someone get the lady a seat. And a stiff drink." Bumper commanded and in a few moments, a servant had fetched a stool from the kitchens and a cup of strong mead.

"I'm alright," Amy gasped out, face still drained. "I'm fine." She gulped down a swig of the drink and steadied herself. "I'm not sure about the girl at the stables."

Another shout went up from the stables and the group turned as one towards the noise. Someone was running towards them and when he was within the ring of torches, they recognised the burly stablehand.

"Commander! Come quick! The stables!"

The stablehand was a burly lad, a little on the quiet side. He was built like a mountain, always imperturbable but at the moment, he was shaking and his face was twisted with horror. Bumper eyed him for a moment before quickly saying, "Ned, Robert. Both of you stay here with Lady Amelia. The rest of you come with me."

He then swung round and stared at the tall blonde man. "Would you care to join us, Sir Luke?"

* * *

He jumped off Shadow even before he stopped. There was such a melee at stables no one noticed him rushing in. The guards seemed to double at the gates and at the entrance to the castle and now, here at the stables, there were men and dogs barking furiously.

_I'm here, Bumper. Where do you want me?_

_Late to the party, as usual._

Jesse stayed silent at the rebuke. He deserved it.

_Stand guard by her room. _

_What? No. _

_Don't argue. I don't have time._

_What's the damage?_

_A dead horse. And a half dead girl. It would be more merciful to kill her. Before she turned._

Jesse, so sure footed, stumbled forward in shock.

_Now for God's sake, go and stand guard by her room!_

Jesse was about to hurry off when Bumper spoke to him again in his mind.

_Jesse, change of plans._

_What is your command?_

_Escort Lady Amelia to Lady Beca's room. And see what you can find. _

* * *

Amy was hurt. Beca knew it. That was her screaming just now. She was hurt.

Beca was frantically pacing in front of her bedroom door. Despite Luke's warning to stay, she had hastily dressed, intending to leave the room and find Amy. But her way was barred by two guards who was very apologetic. No, they were not to let her leave. By orders of the Lord Mitchell.

She had slammed the door shut in frustration. It was all her fault! She was too eager to see Luke all alone. She should have insisted Amy stayed. No one knew whom Amy was meeting. There were so many guests. It could be anyone. This was no good - she had to do something! If only she could climb down the wall like Luke did. It was dangerous but perhaps if she fashioned some sort of rope...

Beca was looking speculatively at her bed linen when she heard that urgent knock on her door. She ran to the door and wrenched it open.

"Amy!" Beca shouted out in relief. "Oh my god, Amy!"

She nearly dragged the dazed blonde girl into the room into the nearest chair.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine..."

"No, you are hurt!"

Beca was so busy fussing over her blonde friend that she did not noticed the dark knight who was behind Amy and had been holding her steady.

"What happened? Who did this to you?" Beca asked fiercely as she fussed over the scratches on Amy's arm and cheek. "By gods, they will answer for this!"

"I'm fine!" Amy was saying, waving her arms in front of her. "Enough! Enough!"

"But you are hurt," Beca said stubbornly.

"Mi'lady, I think Lady Amy needs rest."

Beca whirled round to see who was speaking.

Oh. It's him.

She momentarily flushed before drawing herself to her full height, all five feet two of her before addressing that unpleasant man. "Did you found her hurt? Were you the one to rescue her?"

The knight gazed at her with his dark eyes.

"No. I was merely asked to escort Lady Amelia back to your rooms."

"Oh," Beca replied curtly. His gaze was quite penetrating. "You've done your job, sir knight. I thank you. You may go."

She was already turning away, used to dismissing knights and servants alike. It took her a few moments to realised he was still standing there. Like a lemon. Beca turned back and frowned.

"I bade you goodbye, sir knight." Her tone was a little bored yet biting.

"So you have, Lady Rebbeca," he answered drily. "But I've been commanded to stand guard here."

"There is no need for that. We are perfectly safe here." Beca said irritably. "Besides, there are guards outside the door."

"All the same, I am to ensure the rooms are secure," he said, eyes already raking over the place. He walked along the length of the room and then stepped out onto the balcony. Beca was highly irritated now. How dare he walk around like he was familiar with her chambers! Fat Amy let out a little moan and Beca looked at her worriedly, forgetting about that annoying knight.

"You are not well. Let me call for Nurse."

"No, I'm fine. I'm just a little out of sorts," Fat Amy said.

"What happened?"

"A monster. I saw a monster," Amy whispered hoarsely.

"A monster?"

"More than one. Eyes red like burning coals. And fangs. And blood."

Beca looked shocked for a moment and then she burst out laughing. "Oh Amy. What faerie tales you tell. There are no such things as monsters!"

"Perhaps mi'lady would do well NOT to laugh. Lady Amy had quite a fright."

That laugh died in her throat. Beca was too surprised to even speak. Did that knight just rebuke her? Like she was some five year old? The nerve of him! He had came back into the room and was just standing there, looking at her calculatively. She did not care at the way he was looking at her.

"Where you in your room all this time, mi'lady?"

Beca opened and shut her mouth a couple of times. She was still speechless.

"I left the Lady Beca not a few hours ago," Amy spoke up. She saw that look on Beca's face. "The lady does not sneak about at night. She would have been in these rooms."

"Alone?"

"Wha..." That came out like an angry squeak. Beca's face was white with rage.

"I would guard your tongue, sir knight," Amy said calmly. "What are you trying to imply?"

Jesse seemed to remember himself. "Forgive me. I have trespassed my welcome. I would leave you to your rest." He bowed stiffly and left the room. When the door was finally shut, Beca exploded, "What the hell was that?! Does he have a death wish?! Because if he does, I gladly help him along!"

* * *

_She's safe._

_Found anything?_

_The stench is in her rooms. One of them had been here. I'll bet it was the blonde one._

Bumper could hear the little snort in Jesse's thoughts. He could not work out whether it was disgust, anger or jealousy.

_Stand close to her, Jesse._

_As you wish._

"I do not understand what is all this fuss for!"

Bumper's attention was back in the room. Lord O'Cullenain was busy wiping his face and wringing his handsl. They were standing in the reception hall, the warmth and merriment feast had died down with all that commotion. The guests had now all retired and what was left was only the heads of houses surrounding Lord Mitchell.

"Surely this is all an accident? Some highly drunk gues,t perchance," Lord O'Cullenain continued.

"Commander Allen does not think so," Lord Mitchell said testily. "One of my horses dead, drained of blood and one of the serving wench, now down with fever and not likely to last the night."

A collective intake of breaths and a ripple of shudder greeted his words. Bumper's eyes did not waver from Luke's face. Luke's face was as still as sculpted marble.

"I do offer my condolences, Lord Mitchell," Lord O'Cullenain spoke. "There is a beast loose! I offer you my men to track them down."

"Thank you, my dear friend. But we have it under control." Lord Mitchell replied. I am sorry to end the feast this way, mi'lords. I could not offer my hospitality beyond this night. I thank you for all your courtesies."

The lords murmured their thanks, dipping their heads and scurrying away. They looked eager to be away. Because if it was true, that there was a monster loose, a monster seeking blood, they would want to be away as soon as possible.

Only Lord O'Cullenain tarried a little.

"Are you sure, my good friend?" he said, laying a heavy hand on Lord Mitchell's shoulder. "We could help you flush out this monster."

"Thank you for your offer but I have to refuse. We will find it. And kill it," Lord Mitchell answered, his voice hard and final."Besides, who knows where the monsters be hiding nowadays?"

* * *

The O'Cullenain's party was the first to leave in dawn's early light. The camp was struck down quickly in the middle of the night and by the time the sky turned light, streaked with pink and yellow, they were riding hard on the road back to their stronghold.

Luke did not ride his horse this morning; his father had called him into the black carriage, to sit by him. Lord O'Cullenain gazed at his son with hooded eyes. Both of them silent until they were well on their way home.

"I trust you made arrangements? To tidy up that little mess we left behind?" the older man rasped out. His hand went up a little feebly towards the opened window of the carriage and Luke immediately adjusted the blinds to keep out the sun.

Luke nodded. "Yes. It was the three, father. The ones I warned you about."

His father nodded. "Are you rebuking me, my son?"

Luke lowered down his gaze but he could not keep that frustration out of his voice. "I was with the lady Beca and she was about to say yes. She would have if I have not been interrupted by some silly men who can't control their thirst."

"You are too hard on them. Don't you remember how terrible the thirst was?"

Luke felt the reprimand and kept quiet.

"Did anyone took the dying wench? It would be a shame to waste a breeding mare. We need as many 'children' as we can."

"Yes. I've sent someone."

"So you have planted the seed in Lady Beca's mind?"

"Yes."

"Will she come?"

"I am not entirely sure. She will send me word if she agrees."

The older man shut his eyes and rasped out. "We are running out of time. We have to have her. You know what our plans are, Luke."

"Yes, father."

"Perhaps we should carry out the 'raid' as planned. Word or no word."

Luke shuddered a little. "I thought she has to be willing, father."

Lord O'Cullenain opened his eyes and stared at his son. His eyes flashed red. "I rather have her come willingly. It would be sweeter and easier. But if she doesn't, I rather have her unwilling and afraid than not at all. Do you understand?"

There was a moment's silence in the coach, only interrupted by the whinny of horses outside and the sound of the creaking wheels over the stony, dirt road.

"Yes, father. As you command."

* * *

**Three days later, on the eve of depart****ure**

Beca stared at the activity in the courtyard; she was staring at all the servants scurrying about, getting the retinue ready to travel at first light tomorrow but she was not seeing anything. Her heart felt broken. She felt hollow. She was to leave her home, the one she knew all her life, to travel across the land to wed someone she hardly even knew.

And to make matters worse, she had been informed by her father earlier that evening that no, Lady Amelia will not accompany her to her new life. Amy, her friend and companion, would not be joining her. Beca had a screaming fit in her father's chambers when she was told but not even her tantrums and screams moved him. He was adamant that Amy should not go; that there was no need for Amy to go since Beca would have new handmaidens when she took her place at the de Lessops.

It was the worse ever news.

And Amy seemed to have disappeared, without as much as a goodbye.

And Beca felt alone and abandoned.

She sat for a long time watching all the activity before finally rising from her seat and making her way to her bedroom. Her maids were trying hard not to cry in front of her. Impossible as she was sometimes, Beca was still their mistress and they would miss her. Beca guarded her thoughts and sadness from showing on her face. She had to be brave.

But the dinner on her tray laid untouched, the wine not drunk. She had no appetite.

Perhaps it was better this way. She was terrible at goodbyes. She would rise the next morning, get dressed in her travelling finest and board the carriage with a brave smile on her face. It was what Father would want and she would do her daughter's duty.

Beca unclasped the light dressing gown, leaving the silk material opened at her front. It was getting late and she should be in bed. She padded softly in her bare feet towards her bed and was about to get into the bed when she heard that slight sound.

It was the softest shuffle but she heard it all the same.

She did not whirl around in panic. She stayed very calm, fussing with the bedclothes like she was about to get in. Her hand slipped under the pillow on her bed and closed around the dagger. And with a loud yawn, she drew her hand towards her chest and tucked it close, her hand holding the hilt.

Her senses were on high alert.

And then she felt a heavy cloak dropping around her and she opened her mouth to scream. Except a huge hand was covering her mouth, her scream now muffled. She lashed out with her dagger. A soft curse and her hand was caught and wrenched so hard she dropped the dagger. Beca screamed fruitlessly against the hand on her mouth and then she bit down hard.

She drew blood.

She could taste it.

And she felt a fleeting moment of victory.

Before she felt her airway being blocked with that hand again.

And she felt herself losing consciousness. The colours swirling in front of her eyes. The tightness in her chest. The last thing she remembered was her body slumping, losing all strength, before she succumbed to the darkness.


End file.
